


Duro Lives in Ignorance

by SubtextEquals



Series: Duro Lives [1]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubtextEquals/pseuds/SubtextEquals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Duro had lived, what would his reaction have been to Agron and Nasir's growing relationship?</p><p>The answer is he would have been clueless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duro Lives in Ignorance

Duro ran his hand through his hair. It was cropped far too short for his liking. Spartacus had advised that he and Agron cut it so as not to stand out when they had been hiding in the sewers, but he had protested until Agron snapped at him and took a knife to his hair himself.

He still had trouble getting used to it.

Maybe now that they were out of Capua he could finally grow it out again. They had taken a villa that night. Agron had stayed insufferably close to him during the battle even though the guards were easy enough to dispatch. But now they were separated. Agron had spent much of the night in conversation with Spartacus. Then, just when he was to drink wine with Duro, he’d been called away. Spartacus needed him again.

Duro passed the time with Donar, breaking away only when he saw Agron leave the villa.

Agron answered Duro’s question before he could ask it.

“A slave made fucking attempt on Spartacus’s life.”

Agron reached for Duro’s cup. Duro pulled it away.

“Fucking cunt! Who?”

“A body slave. Small fuck.”

“He can join the Romans in the ground.” Duro took a sip of his wine.

“He yet lives.”

Duro almost choked. “What?”

“Spartacus spared his life.”

“Spartacus is a fool!”

“You will find no disagreement from me.” Glaring at the cup in Duro’s hand, Agron stalked off to find his own wine.

 

The next day Duro stood by Agron’s side as they watched the gladiators train the able slaves in the ways of combat. Or rather, attempt to train.

“Waste of fucking time.” Agron growled.

“The one with Spartacus, is that him?” Duro asked, nodding toward the lithe figure who kept exposing his flank and had a poor grip on his sword.

“It is.”

“And he trains him now?” Duro shook his head. “Pity he didn’t kill him. The cunt will make attempt again.”

Agron stared at the man. “Pity.”

 

The rebels had not yet gone through the last of the wine and the night was spent in much the same as the first in the villa only absent bloodshed.

Agron grabbed a jug of wine and poured it into two cups.

“Crixus may waste time but we reap rewards.” Duro moved to grab one of the cups from Agron’s hand.

Agron jerked his hand back, spilling some of the drink in the process. “Pour fucking own.”

“You’re greedy, brother.” Duro reached again.

This time Agron took a step back. “It is not for me.” He nodded in the direction of a lone figure, the same man who’d tried to kill Spartacus, sitting with his back to a column. “I’ll speak with this little man.”

“Crixus wastes time. You waste wine.” He shook his head and went to grab a cup of his own while Agron walked to the boy.

In the end, Duro gave up on a cup and simply drank directly from the jug. He wandered out of the walls of the villa and into the open. There he saw Agron crouching next to the former slave, talking to him. Still.

“Brother.” He called and walked over to him. “Has cup run dry?”

Agron looked over his shoulder at him. “See for yourself.” He spoke not to Duro but to the man beside him. Then he raised his voice in response to his brother. “I need no more.”

Duro raised the jug. “Then I shall have it all.”

“Then you shall be as bad as a fucking Gaul.”  


Duro laughed.

“What did you speak with him about?” He asked as they walked away, not caring that they weren’t out of hearing range of the little man.

“I asked him his name. He told me of his brother.”

“Why did you bother with that fuck?”

Agron shrugged. He turned back to survey the Syrian. “Curiosity.”

 

That same night scouts of someone called Seppius had been sent to check on the dominus who now lay dead. The soldiers were about to leave the villa and Duro was ready to come out into the open when the slave Tiberius fucked it all up.

“Wait. You have come a fair distance from Capua. Come and I will give you something to make effort worthwhile.” Tiberius said.

From where he was hiding Duro looked at his brother. “Fucking shit.” He muttered.

An instant later Crixus and Spartacus charged and Agron and Duro followed suit. The fight that followed was short. Instead of staying by his side, this time Agron charged to the center of the action and earned himself a blow to the jaw for it.

Duro had just finished dispatching his opponent when he saw one of the scouts lunge for Spartacus.

“Spartacus!” Agron shouted.

Then he saw a flash of movement and in the next moment the scout had been impaled by a sword, one held by Tiberius.

“Fuck.” Duro swore. What was going on? The little shit had brought the Romans down on them and now he had switched sides again?

The truth came out when Crixus pinned Tiberius against a column.

“His eyes fell to my neck.” The former slave snarled. “He saw the absence of my collar. If I had not allowed him in he would have returned with more men.”

That seemed to be enough for Crixus as he released the man. Duro looked to his brother and Spartacus, to see if they too believed this.

Spartacus nodded and touched the man’s shoulder. “You did well, Tiberius.”

A moment passed as Spartacus turned and Duro started to make his way toward his brother, fully intending to mock him for letting his guard down, as repayment for all the times Agron had snapped at him for the same.

“Nasir.”

Duro turned to Tiberius.

The Syrian looked directly at Agron. “My brother called me Nasir.”

Duro looked at his brother in time to see him nod.

When he reached Agron, he decided to pass on the opportunity to mock. “You look for friendship in wrong place.”

“He’s not fucking friend.” Agron snapped.

But Duro saw how he glanced at Tiberius--Nasir-- once he was done speaking.

 

The slaver wagon was taken. Duro pressed his hand to the shallow gash on his side where a sword had cut skin.

“Fuck.” He was supposed to be proving his worth not opening himself up to attack.

Spartacus asked the crowd about Naevia. Duro was unconcerned about that. It wasn’t that he didn’t pity the woman but after this long he doubted they were going to find her. Crixus would be better off giving up on her.

Then he heard a cry and looked in its direction. Agron pushed himself up onto his feet, Nasir by his side. Of course they were together. When were they not together? Between him and Spartacus, Duro felt like he hardly ever saw his brother.

“The man,” Nasir said. “He spoke of your woman.”

“What did he say?” Crixus rounded on the man. “Find fucking voice.”

“Dead.” Agron answered for the Syrian. “Naevia’s dead.”

Even Duro was moved by the way Crixus’s face broke and how he walked as a man who’d lost heart.

 

Duro had been looking forward to speaking with his brother. Now he wished the man would cease speaking.

“When we raid the ships of Neapolis you’re to stay close as shadow.”

“I did not die nor lose limb! I can fight for myself.”

“As you did in the arena?” Agron glared at him then pointed at Duro’s chest with two fingers. “Until you prove yourself capable you fight by my side.”

Duro let out a sharp exhale of breath that came out as half growl and stalked off—away from his infuriating brother.

He did not pay attention to where he was going, focused more on the harsh exchange of words and how his brother needed to remove cock from own fucking ass.

“Agron, yes. He is of a form, is he not?” He heard a woman speak.

Duro paused. Well if there was one way to get his brother’s cock out of his ass it was to make him slip it into some cunt.

“I suppose.” He heard Nasir reply indifferently.

“Oh, you suppose? Do not think I have not noticed your eyes upon him, nor the way of late you have been huddled together in intimate conversation.”

“You mistake subject of discussion.”

“Yet not the blush upon your cheek when he is near.”

Nasir did not reply and the woman laughed.

“You would do yourself well to pursue desire. I would myself if I believed he favored me.”

And yet she thinks he favors Nasir? Duro thought. Whoever this woman was, she was entirely unobservant.

He snorted and stepped into the room. He recognized the woman but did not know her name. “My brother favors blood over cock and ass.”

The woman laughed. “And what do you favor?” She eyed him with interest.

Duro considered it for a moment. “A woman who has mind and not just cunt. But my brother--”

The woman did not let him finish. She glared at him before walking past him. Duro turned to look at her and wondered, as he watched her sway, if he should have responded better and replied for himself.

“What brings you here, Duro?”

The muscles in Nasir’s face were drawn too tight for Duro’s liking. He was too composed. Still, Duro bent and handed one of the sacks Nasir was packing away to the Syrian.

Nasir hesitated then took it.

“I was passing and heard my brother’s name. That woman was not wholly blind. My brother spends too much time with you.”

“You would not have it so?” Nasir closed the lid of the chest and stood but his face was still implacable.

“I would have him spend time with better men, not a Roman’s whore.”

Finally Nasir bared his teeth, literally, as his lips pulled back into an unvoiced snarl. When he did not speak, Duro smirked and left the coward standing there.

 

The truth had come out about Naevia—how she had not died on way to the mines. Now the rebels had split, with the bulk heading for Vesuvius while Crixus and Spartacus lead the others in an attack on the mines that could only end in death.

“You did not tell me.” Duro said when he and Agron were alone in one of the rooms of the villa.

“About Naevia?” Agron wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand. “What use would it have been? You did not need know.”

“Nasir knew.”

“Nasir was with me when we learned. Duro, you do not need to know fucking everything.”

Duro did not back down and stood firm. “Are we brothers?”

“Are we joined at hip?” Agron retorted. His gaze then shifted away from Duro to directly behind him.

Duro turned and found the fucking Syrian standing in the hall.

“Apologies,” Nasir said. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

“You did not.” Agron spoke before Duro could. “Go.”

Duro waited for Nasir to leave. When he did not he turned to look at Agron and found his brother staring at him.

“We are not finished,” Duro said.

“No, we are not.” Agron agreed. “And we’ll continue when you come to fucking sense.”

“What words do you have for this shit!” Duro gestured back at Nasir.

“Go!” Agron yelled and Duro knew by the look of poorly suppressed rage in his face that it was best he left.

Glaring first at Agron then at the little fuck, Duro bumped into Nasir’s shoulder as he passed him, knocking the Syrian back.

 

The day of their parting approached. There was one change that Duro appreciated. Instead of speaking with Spartacus for hours, Agron was by Duro’s side that night though their argument had continued. In the end they slept still angry but morning’s light had calmed them both.

They were side by side as they went to say their farewells to Spartacus.

“Are we to attack naked? With our cocks as weapons.” Crixus asked as he pulled on his rags.

“You would fare just as well.” Agron said as he stepped closer to the assembled men.

“Remove yourself from fucking sight.” Crixus responded.

“Go,” Spartacus said.

“Seek us out at Vesuvius, if you live.”

“Pray I do not.” Crixus smiled grimly.

Agron turned to go, as did Duro.

“I accompanied my dominus to the mines once.” Nasir spoke and Agron looked back. “I may be of some aid.”

Duro stared at the man he had thought of as a coward, now risking his life for someone he had never met. For what purpose? Had he chose this course yesterday when speaking with Agron? Yet when Duro looked at his brother he saw surprise on his face.

Agron smiled at Nasir. “Fucking Syrians,” he said with a shake of his head.

Agron walked away, clapping Duro on the shoulder as he came beside him, and they left together.

“Why would he turn from us?” Duro asked. “He did not break words on subject?”

“No,” Agron said stiffly. “He did not.”

“The little dog turns from master. Better now than after he bites hand.”

“I am not his master and he would not bite.” Agron hurried his pace and left his brother behind.

Duro scowled and went after him. Agron’s company had better improve the more distance was placed between them and Spartacus’s men. And that Syrian.

 

Agron’s mood did not improve. He took command of the former slaves, leading them through the woods but they were impeded by their numbers. He didn’t say much but made for a good leader and Duro was proud of that, if not the way he was acting. It wasn’t poor but whenever they were together he was quieter than usual and did not laugh as easily.

“Do you brood over Spartacus or Nasir?” Duro asked as they walked.

“I do not fucking brood.”

“You sulk as child. Next you will cry for mother’s breast.”

“Close mouth. I do not weep.” Agron frowned.

“Not yet.” A stick beneath Duro’s feet snapped. “I will miss Spartacus too but they were fools to attack the mine. They chose their deaths.”

“And I shall mourn them as I fucking please.”

Again, Agron signaled the end of the conversation when he increased his pace. When Duro caught up with him he did not raise the subject again.

 

Two days had passed and Agron seemed to be in better spirits. They were nearing Vesuvius, though not at the pace he would like, and when morning came he was the one to shake Duro awake. He’d been none too happy about that. Agron couldn’t even let him do that for himself.

He and Agron were in the lead and had fallen into silence when Agron stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” Duro lowered his voice.

“People ahead.” He motioned to those behind them to prepare themselves and they hurried on, eager to see who it was and, if necessary, see them to the afterlife.

Agron was the first among them, with Duro and Donar quickly behind. It wasn’t long before Duro saw two figures—that of a man, with sword raised, and a woman. After a few more steps he saw that it was Spartacus and Mira.

For a moment, Duro wondered if that was all of them. Had no others lived through the assault on the mines or had they split? But then he saw a woman—Naevia—crouched near a tree. At her side could only be Nasir. Duro recognized that hair, tangled though it was. The man didn’t move.

Agron walked to Spartacus, touching his shoulder and sharing a look with him. Just when Duro thought they would speak, Agron turned away from their leader and went to Nasir.

After smiling and nodding at Spartacus, lucky bastard that he was, Duro followed his brother, who had taken his hand away from Nasir’s chin. As soon as he did the man’s head slumped back onto his chest.

“Does he live?” Duro asked.

“He does.” Agron’s voice was thick with an emotion that Duro could not place. Relief? Worry?

“The man is paler than you.”

“We will see him to Vesuvius.” Agron straightened and doubled back to speak with Spartacus.

Duro lingered, staring down at the Syrian a while longer. He saw the tear in his tunic and the blood that drenched it. “Naevia, how did he come by this wound?”

“Protecting Mira and I from Romans. He fought well.”

Not well enough, Duro couldn’t help but think. Yet, thinking back to the cut he’d suffered when they attacked the slavers, he might not have fared any better.

“It is good to see you, Naevia.” He said and turned back towards his brother and Spartacus.

And, to his surprise, it was good to see Nasir.

 

It was the first time Duro had been under a roof since they left the villa. Although said roof was in need of repair, it was welcome. At least further into the temple there were no problems. It was in one of those rooms that Nasir lay.

Duro watched as one of the older women tended to Nasir. By now he had heard the story in more detail from Spartacus. Nasir had convinced the slavers that he was delivering men, he had found Naevia, and, when the Romans went after them, fought them on more than one occasion. He’d held them back until he was injured and received another brand of his own, this time by sword.

He could see why his brother was fond of the man.

“Watch him a moment.” The woman said as she stepped away. “I must eat.”

Duro opened his mouth to protest but then he realized he was nodding and moving to stand beside Nasir.

Duro was more than a little self-conscious as he stared down at Nasir. He wondered vaguely what he was supposed to do if the man should take a turn for the worse. Would Agron blame him if Nasir died under Duro’s watch or would brotherly love save him from wrath?

Nasir’s eyes fluttered open.

“The little man lives.” Duro smiled.

“Duro,” Nasir said weakly. “Why are you here?”

“I’ll give answer when I have one.” He paused. “Agron was here not long ago.”

“Was he?” Nasir did not sound entirely surprised at the news.

Duro nodded.

Oh fuck, he should get this over.

“Apologies for my words earlier. You are not who I believed you to be.”

Nasir smiled faintly. “I am no Roman’s whore.”

“You’re no gladiator either but that does not stop you from fighting.”

Nasir’s smile slowly disappeared and his eyes fell shut.

“Rest.” Duro said and he stepped back so he could lean against the wall while still keeping an eye on the Syrian. “I will watch you.”

He did not know how much time had passed when he heard approaching footsteps. He turned to see not the acting medicus but Agron.

“I did not think to find you here.” His brother spoke.

“I did not think to be here.”

Agron laughed and, still smiling, looked from his brother to Nasir.

“Come,” he said at length. “We must leave soon.”

Duro’s brow furrowed. “And go where?”

Agron grinned. “The arena.”

 

“I go to the arena never to set foot upon its sand again?” Duro spoke sharply. They would leave for Capua soon. If he could convince his brother not to send him on some task and draw blood instead…

“You will burn it to fucking ashes. Is that not enough?” Agron shot back. “Two men are all that’s needed on its sands. You will spill enough blood.”

“I do not need to be protected!” Duro hissed.

“And if we needed three men I would have you fight by my—”

“Where do we go?”

Both brothers turned, as did the others, when they heard Nasir speak. He walked slowly forward.

“Nasir.”

Duro heard the smile in his brother’s voice. Agron strode to Nasir, quickly meeting him, and placed his hand on his face. He did not remove it. Nasir smiled at him then turned to Spartacus.

“Give me a sword. I will join you.”

Spartacus did not delay his response for a moment. “I would have you rest yet a while longer.” His voice was almost as warm as Agron’s.

Agron leaned forward. “This time you stay and I go.”

Nasir smiled again in response.

Then Agron pressed his lips to Nasir’s in a kiss far more gentle than Duro ever would have thought possible for his brother.

He—

But—

That wasn’t—

Duro looked at the others to see if they too were in a state of shock but they seemed to hold no surprise at the intimate moment. Duro looked back at Agron and Nasir, who had parted and were smiling at each other.

“We must move.” Spartacus said and turned around.

Duro kept staring.

Agron stepped away from Nasir and caught sight of Duro.

“What surprises you, brother?”

“Him?” Duro said weakly.

“Do you have fucking problem?” Agron snapped.

“…No, but—”

“Then move.” Agron brushed past him

Duro stole another glance at Nasir, who had his face turned away from him but was still smiling. Then he followed his brother.

After Spartacus’s speech, when they were on their way to the arena, Duro broached the subject.

“You and Nasir. When did you two—”

“Jupiter’s cock, Duro. Are you blind?”

“You have an idiot for a brother if he did not see that coming.” Donar laughed behind them.

Duro turned to glare at him. “I am no idiot!”

Agron slung his arm around Duro. “Do not worry brother, I forgive you and pray that mind returns to you.” He looked behind him and gestured to Donar, who fell back.

“If you have problem…” Agron continued.

“Then you’d give up Nasir?”

Agron gave him a tight smile that Duro could read without needing his brother to clarify. But he did.

“Never.” Agron replied.

“I have no problem.” Duro stared ahead. “Now you can protect him instead of wasting time with me.”

“Ah brother, I have two eyes, one for both of you. You should learn to use your own.”

Duro silently and grudgingly agreed but that did not stop him from protesting. “I know how to use eyes.”

They argued until Donar told him to be fucking silent before he tore tongues from mouths. That only made them laugh.

 

The arena was destroyed. Several days had passed since their return to the temple and Duro was finally adjusting to the fact that Agron would not always be by his side as in days past. He had retired to his section of the temple to sleep in when he found Agron grabbing his few clothes.

“What is this?”

“I will not share your company at night anymore.” Agron straightened.

“What are you—oh.” Oh.

Agron shook his head. “I will speak with you tomorrow Duro.”

Duro watched him as he moved to leave. He called after him. “This is one matter in which I wish to stay ignorant.”


End file.
